What's in a Name?
by Diporae
Summary: Y'Gythgba earned her name. No one would take it from her. One-shot giftfic.


What's in a Name?

 **A/N I do not own TMNT, but am forever grateful for their existence. This little piece is a secret Santa gift fic for Carareed on tumblr. Merry Christmas Carareed, I hope you enjoy it!**

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"I'll call you Mona Lisa."

Yellow eyes widened at his remark.

No. That was not her name. Her name was Y'Gythgba.

Like all Salamandrians, she began life in a communal rookery. She was laid by her mother in the dry season, and come the warm wet weather a few weeks later she like many others hatched, freed to the languid pools of her home planet, Urodela. During the first several years of life she, just as all other hatchlings, was little more than a legless gilled larva. It would not be until her ninth cycle that her legs would appear, and she would not emerge from the murky waters until ten. It was then she would be met by the Salamandrian Monks who would begin her education on the mysterious new world she now had access to.

The next few years following their emergence, all Salamandrian children were formally dubbed "Hatchlings," even though they had left their shells many years before. More often the older Salamandrians who had already received their names would call them "Pond Legs," "Wobble Walkers," or worst of all "Pollywogs." Yet Y'Gythgba, like her peers, had no choice but to accept their fate for it would not be for several more cycles, near the completion of their training, that they would at last be given a mentor and most importantly, _a name_. Until then, she was like all the others, indecipherable to the adults – little more than a pest in their amphibious eyes.

She never thought the day would come, but at last arrived the Day of Sight. It was a hallowed occasion to all Salamandrian youth for it marked the day in a young amphibian's life in which they would venture out into the Silke Swamps and await the vision necessary to guide them to their mentor. Only then when they approached their mentor and had the Salamandrian Monks of Sight interpret their vision would the young Salamandrian receive their name. At last they would be considered adults and valued members of Salamandrian society.

Each Salamandrian had a unique Day of Sight assigned to them by the Monks after they consulted the Sacred Waters. Y'Gythgba's arrived on the first day of the rainy season and when the Monks ushered her through the Rookery's gates to the foggy swamps beyond, her heart was a constant source of thrumming within her chest.

They left her knee deep in warm mud and utterly alone.

She would stay that way for many days to come.

After the third day, she was both hungry and tired, but those feelings were nothing compared to her frustration. For if no vision came to her, she would not receive a mentor and not be given a name.

It did happen.

Every so often a Salamandrian youth would return to the Rookery's gates with no wisdom gained. It was a dire sign and the Monks would immediately consult the Sacred Waters. If the applicant was deemed unworthy, they would be forced to return to the pond of their hatching and reside there in solitude for days on end. Only then would they be allowed to rejoin their fellow unnamed peers and there they would remain, until assigned a new Day of Sight three cycles later.

It was shameful.

Y'Gythgba knew she could not allow herself to return until _something_ happened. She would rather live a life of solitude in the dangerous swamps than return to being a nobody for three more turnings. She refused to be invisible for any longer. Yet a day later, she still had _nothing_ , and the rains were only ever-increasing in their incessant pounding on her slick flesh.

Trying to get the slimmest of relief from the monsoon's barrage, she tried seeking shelter under the arching roots of a giant tree akin in appearance to Earth's great cypresses. She knew nothing of said distant world, but she did know she was steadily falling into a despair fearing that she would never receive her vision.

She would have to return empty-handed. She would have to submit to her shameful fate.

Perhaps it was because of her present state of mind, or maybe it was her senses were dulled from lack of proper nourishment, but whatever the reason, Y'Gythgba failed to realize the severity of her current situation. However, at the rustle of nearby ferns, she abruptly became aware she was no longer alone. Springing into a roll, Y'Gythgba narrowly dodged the plunge of hideous serpent jaws aimed in her direction. She would have been pleased with her agility if she was not immediately met by two more massive reptilian heads of a similar nature.

The Salamandrians knew the Silke Swamps were dangerous. There was reason why they rarely ventured alone into them, but it was that same reason they could not be considered true adults until they prevailed through such trials. Y'Gythgba was well aware that she had been lucky to have had minimal interaction with the local fauna up until this point, but a snapping crocodile or even a swarm of serpent flies would have been better than what stood before her now.

Studying her closely were the six eyes of an Urodelan Hydra – true nightmare fodder indeed. The trio of heads curved up on serpentine necks, poised to strike at any moment. Each was equipped with undoubtedly venomous fangs and if that were not frightening enough, the olive-green necks merged into the golden-scaled belly of a massive snake complete with an unfathomably long tail tipped with a razor-sharp scythe.

Her pupils dilated in fear before she once more lunged out of the way of another volley of swift strikes. At that moment, Y'Gythgba knew the very seconds of her life were numbered. Ducking behind a swathe of cypress roots, attempting cover, Y'Gythgba could not help but grimace. Years of being deemed worthless all for it to end in the bowels of a hydra before her one chance at recognition. Gritting her teeth, her yellow eyes narrowed.

No. She would not let it end this way.

Pulling out her knife – the only personal item she had been permitted to bring from the Rookery – from its sheath, Y'Gythgba sprang away from her hiding spot to another of better cover to gain valuable moments to come up with something – _anything_ – that could save her from the belly of the beast hissing before her. Admittedly, she knew very little about hydras other than the fact that their teeth were poisonous and that they had claimed more than one Salamandrian over the years. She also knew cutting off a head would do her no good, for the other two would be more than ready to tear her apart the moment she attacked the one. No, she needed to aim lower. Yet, there was no way she would be able to draw a finishing blow. Even if by some miracle she managed to hit the spot above the monster's heart, there was no way she would be able to plunge her little knife deep enough to cause fatal injury.

Despair began creeping in once more, threatening to disarm her second wind, when she saw it. Nearby, only mere inches from her clawed feet was a cluster of red. She only needed to widen her eyes to immediately confirm the curved scarlet caps belonged to the most toxic of toadstools: Blood Bells. Her mouth quirked into the subtlest of smiles.

Crouching forward, Y'Gythgba smoothly slid her knife through the stems of several of the tiny fungi just below their veils. Wrapping them carefully into a fern leaf so as not to brush the deadly spores onto her skin, Y'Gythgba knew she would only have one shot. She could only pray that the hydra was as susceptible to the toxic as she and her fellow Salamandrians were. Straightening up just as her opponent discovered her hiding place, Y'Gythgba tried to prepare herself. Coiling her muscles in preparation, knowing she could not afford to miss, time slowed extending each of her heartbeats into an endless roaring in her ears.

As the hydra shot its middle neck forward, Y'Gythgba jumped towards it and thrust her one despite hope for salvation in the direction of the beast's widened jaws. She hit her mark. The package of Blood Bells flew straight into the back of the hydra's mouth, forcing it to swallow the projectile. Yet, so focused was she on the middle head, she forgot the remaining two were still very much active. Y'Gythgba managed to side-step the left, but only by falling into the way of the right. Until the hydra's jaws sunk into her shoulder, Y'Gythgba realized she had previously known nothing of pain.

Agony could not describe it. She swore even her blood burned as it travelled away from the lacerated site. Her only saving grace was that mere moments after the head had latched onto her flesh, the hydra released her to shriek into the muggy fly-ridden air. Falling to her knees while futilely clenching her shoulder to stem the blood, Y'Gythgba watched as the hydra began to twist and curl upon itself as it convulsed under the poison's influence. Not even a minute later, after one final great writhing shudder, the hydra collapsed.

Yet, Y'Gythgba found no relief in her opponent's death. Instead, she shivered as her vision began to blur under her own toxic plight. As she sunk onto her side, she knew she was done. She had no anti-venom and she could never reach the Rookery in her state. As the edges of her vision began to darken she wondered if anyone would even notice she was gone.

Probably not.

She left invisible and now she would die invisible. A Pollywog forever…

"You sure she'll be okay?"

"Yes Sir, she was tremendously fortunate that you happened to be nearby."

"I'm the one who's grateful. You should have seen that hydra! Half my men wouldn't even think to do what she did. She'll make a fine warrior indeed."

"Where…?" Y'Gythgba cinched open her eyes. She did not know how, but she was no longer in the swamp. Instead she had somehow miraculously returned to the Rookery, for she now was in the Infirmary.

She could not deny she was surprised when the room's two inhabitants, a Monk and a Salamandrian she did not recognize silenced before turning to her.

Adults did not cease their conversation for children.

The unfamiliar face leaned down over her bed, "How are you feeling?"

Adults especially did not cease their conversation to address said child.

"Uh…" She hurt all over, but still was confused as to how she was alive. Her question as to why they even cared could wait, "How did I…?"

The Monk stepped over and she was relieved when he placed a cool moistened washcloth over her forehead, "Commander G'Thraka found you in the swamp. You were unconscious and obviously gravely wounded so he returned you here."

Y'Gythgba's gut began to churn. So she was back. She was alive, but she was also back at the Rookery before she had successfully obtained her vision. Commander G'Thraka turned to the Monk, "Don't sell her short Y'Githar. That hydra did not die on its own." He returned his attention to her, "I'm sure Y'Gythgba can attest to that."

Big yellow eyes widened before blinking in shock, "I beg your pardon Sir, but what did you just call me?"

Commander G'Thraka smiled, "I suppose you wouldn't know would you? After I brought you back and conveyed my story to the Monks of Sight, they consulted the Sacred Waters. They came back with their decision: Your name is to be Y'Gythgba. It means "one whose fire is sparked within the heart of battle." You are to become a warrior, and I your mentor."

That moment became a hallowed memory for Y'Gythgba. Not only had she been given a direction in her life that was not only laden with much glory and honour, but she had gained Commander G'Thraka as a mentor. Over the years he had become more than her leader, but her friend. If he hadn't heard the hydra's dying screeches during his patrol, she would have died in the swamp that day. Yet, he had found her and not only brought her home, but had given her a story worthy of the Sacred Waters to bestow her the gift of a name. A name and an identity.

Returning to the present, continuing to stare at the turtle before her, Y'Gythgba frowned. "You will not. Either you call me Y'Gythgba or you do not address me at all."

She did not wait for a response. Instead she turned her back on him. If an Urodelan hydra could not take her identity from her, this creature most certainly would not. It was hers and always would be.


End file.
